


Irises

by Kyyhky



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, canonverse, more feelings than porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyyhky/pseuds/Kyyhky
Summary: "If the circumstances were different, Shorter would tease his friend, asking if he’s been drinking proper amounts of water lately, because of the way he seems to be sipping life out of his mouth. But he knows better, he tastes what Ash’s probably trying to cover, and he’s in no place to joke about it. So he just slides his tongue in a bit deeper, grabs his waist a bit firmer, hoping to be the anchor Ash’s looking for right now."





	Irises

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Banana Fish Smut Week Day 7: Angst & Fluff feat. Ash and Shorter.
> 
> Iris flowers represent deep, important friendships, as they're a symbol of unwavering trust.

It's late at night. Not so much that he wouldn't get a proper amount of sleep before morning, but enough that the footsteps rushing up the staircase and towards his room are concerning. There's only one person who would come looking for him past midnight unannounced, but even then, this urgency is a strange occurrence.

Shorter has barely time to get up from where he’s laying on the bed, checking his phone, when his door is abruptly open. A storm of gold and green collides into him, almost tackling him. He absently feel grateful for his build and reflexes - whatever it was winding Ash up like this, he'll certainly need all of his strength to contain it.

He’s not unaccustomed to this sight: ever since their days at juvie, they’ve developed a closeness that he knows is a privilege to have. He’s learned to read and understand Ash’s silences and subtle expressions, and grown to appreciate the super rare moments of vulnerability, the genuine smiles whose frequency, he gladly noticed, has increased lately. Shorter now understands what Ash needs from him with sparse words: when he should stay silent and listen or when he should push a bit further.

But this time, there’s something different, something off about the way Ash is clinging to him, like he’s drowning and desperately grabbing onto something to keep him afloat. Shorter doesn’t have enough time to even consider what he should do or say before the boy is standing on his tiptoes, yanking his head down and crashing their mouths together.

It barely lasts a moment, however, before Ash abruptly pulls away and gives him the most conflicted gaze Shorter has ever seen. He can barely make sense of all the emotions going through them, but as quickly as that kiss lasted, he finally realizes a fraction of them.

“It’s ok, Ash” he says, with a carefulness that even Nadia wouldn’t recognize on him. “If it’s what you need, you can take it. Now or ever, you don’t even need to ask”.

“Fuck me.”

Ash barely lets him catch his breath before letting those words out, harsh, like they pain him.

“What?”

“Please” he adds, the softness of it creating a shocking contrast with the desperation his entire body is shaking with. _“Please…”_

Shorter takes a moment to assess his friend: he may have his doubts about what should be the right thing to do, but something in Ash’s unwavering gaze tells him is already too late to consider something different.

“Okay” he breathes out. “Okay, if that’s what you need right now.”

What follows happens in a frenzy of color and limbs, and he’s soon back on his bed, hands and mouth full of the golden-haired boy. Ash straddles him, embraces him with an strength that feels disproportionate for his awkward teenage arms, too long for a body that’s still catching up with its growth.

If the circumstances were different, Shorter would tease his friend, asking if he’s been drinking proper amounts of water lately, because of the way he seems to be sipping life out of his mouth. But he knows better, he _tastes_ what Ash’s probably trying to cover, and he’s in no place to joke about it. So he just slides his tongue in a bit deeper, grabs his waist a bit firmer, hoping to be the anchor Ash’s looking for right now.

A few blinks and Ash is lying under him, hands grabbing clothes to get them out of the way, hips canting up in search of painful friction, watery eyes wide open but not seeing. Shorter clenches his teeth and keeps helping him through it, undressing them both. Suddenly he wishes he was wearing his sunglasses, out of respect for Ash; if Shorter had his glasses on, the image of the boy in front of him wouldn’t become so engraved in his memory.

Ash’s pale body is covered in marks, far too many for such a young existence. Some of them are old, scars from fights and harsh training. Some others are new, quite new. The type of marks that disappear from the skin in a matter of days, but remain way longer in the soul. Around his neck and arms, up his ribs, down and between his legs. He also just notices his swollen cheek, the dirt in his hair. Shorter takes a moment to breathe to avoid the scream trapped in his throat. Or his dinner. Or his tears. Or all of those at once.

A sudden movement beneath him brings him back to his senses and he sees Ash has turned on his stomach, eyes closed now, a hand sliding between his quivering legs, fingers going in and out of his body at a pace that makes him flinch. For a moment longer, Shorter is unable to move or say anything, paralized by something that’s clutching painfully at his heart. _This is wrong._ This boy who’s barely going through his growth spurt shouldn’t be lying on his bed, presenting like this. _This shouldn’t be happening._ He’s sure he can’t give what Ash came looking for. _Ash deserves different - better. If not forever, at least once._

Against better judgement (they both can regret it later, although he hopes it’s not the case), Shorter softly but firmly stops Ash’s ministrations, a hand around a slender wrist. He notices how his friend tenses, expecting a penetration that’s actually far from happening. Swiftly, but taking care into not touching the bruised patches of skin, the chinese flips them over, sitting Ash on his legs while he leans back against the bed’s headboard.

The change in positions seems to wake Ash up, as he now looks part terrified, part curious, part confused. _“What are you doing? Why are you not fucking the memories out of me right now?”_ his eyes seem to scream. Shorter lifts both hands to cradle his face, gaze soft and managing a sheepish smile.

“Ash, if it’s okay… I’d like to give you something different,” he says, careful.

When he’s met with silence, but a jade green gaze is intensely focused on him, he continues.

“It’s not… different from what you asked of me. So if you let me, I’d like to set the pace”.

Shorter’s words and easy smile, the featherlight thumb caressing the cheek slammed against a brick wall that same night, must have sent a clear message. Ash drops his head on his friend’s shoulder and breathes deeply a few times, while Shorter runs a comforting hand between his locks, getting some of the dirt off it.

“Okay,” he hears after some heartbeats. Ash’s arms go loosely around him as he looks up again. “Okay.”

Not a breath later, Shorter’s lifting his jaw with delicacy and kissing his lips. Slow, like they’re suspended in time. Tongues meet again at a leisurely, timid pace, as if they weren’t devouring each other mere minutes ago. Shorter makes sure of pausing so Ash can breathe or back away if he needs to, but every time their mouths meet again, is with greater intensity, fuller lips, hands roaming further.

Shorter takes the opportunity of Ash nipping at his neck to blindly reach for the bedside drawer where he keeps the essentials. Condoms ever since his first girlfriend, lube after Ash gave him the most disturbed look when Shorter confessed he didn’t use it ( _“But girls don’t need it!”_ he’d said at the time, later proving himself oh, how wrong he was).

He takes a condom out, puts in on his fingers and takes a moment to position them both more comfortably on the bed. Ash’s body is flush on top of his, head resting under his chin. Shorter takes some minutes to run his hands firmly up and down Ash’s back, venturing lower each time, until he feels his friend is relaxed enough to keep on going. If they’d paid closer attention, they’d have noticed their heartbeats gradually syncing up.

His fingers slide in with little resistance, which brings no surprise. Shorter logically knows that he could be fucking the lights out of his friend already, like he was asked to, but something in these previous preparations feels almost like a ritual. Like devotion poured into care, chasing for a pleasure that’s not only a physical experience. As he feels Ash rocking back on his fingers, breath shallow once again, he wonders if he’s ever felt like that before: being taken care of, being adored in all levels, with respect and love.

Shorter knows it’s unlikely, and he has to suppress a sob that threatens to come out.

Apparently the hitch on his breath is enough for Ash to look up. There’s impatience in his brow, tears in his eyes and a blush that reaches his ears and goes down his neck. Something in the marvelous mix of it all - a sight so erotic, yet innocent and desperate - makes Shorter feel like kissing him all over: his face, his forehead, his nose, his hair. Which he does while sliding out of Ash, disposing of the used condom and reaching for a new one along with the lube.

Ash takes them out of his hands, most likely eager to get this over with, and puts them on Shorter’s cock. All his internal musings kept him distracted from his own excitement so he flinches at the sudden cold and hands around him, and he has to bite hard on his lower lip to contain a moan.

“Stop doing that,” he hears Ash say. He didn’t notice he had closed his eyes tight, and when he opens them, he’s met with a radiant jade gaze, too close to him to really focus on anything else.

“Doing what?”

“Being silent.” Ash’s lips curl slightly into his first smile of the night. A teasing one, as he positions himself over his friend’s cock and slowly sits down. “It’s not like you.”

Shorter is abruptly overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of Ash, who is already swaying his hips at a slow but unrelenting rhythm. He now can’t help a groan of pleasure coming out, which earns him a softened gaze and a brighter smile.

Despite what he said previously, he lets Ash dictate the pace. His hands roam gently from his legs, his ass, up his ribs and he gently rubs his rosy nipples. He must be sensitive there because his swaying falters, his head is thrown back and his insides clench in a way that makes them both hiss. Shorter then holds him in his arms and decides to lavish his chest with lips and tongue and teeth. It makes Ash go faster and deeper, makes him moan louder as he trembles and cries.

Their encounter doesn’t last much longer, all the conflicted emotions running through Ash make him unable to delay the inevitable. He comes with a sigh, little moans following as he keeps moving his hips, chasing the last remnants of pleasure. Exhaustion and relief must have caught up with him, because he flops down heavily on top of Shorter, boneless and eyes closed.

Shorter takes the cue to carefully slide out of him, gaining a lazy grunt from Ash. For a moment he lets them both lay there, breathing, gathering the boy in his arms while willing his own erection away. He can’t lie and say he’s _okay_ with it, but given the circumstances, he understands. Everything that just transpired wasn’t about his own satisfaction after all.

Ash’s breathing becomes deep and slow, and Shorter knows he’s finally asleep. It’s not a hard task for him to sit up, gently laying his friend down on the sheets and assessing his state. There’s traces of tears over his cheeks, but otherwise his face is relaxed and peaceful. The state of his body is far from ideal, but Shorter exhales in relief upon noticing that there’s no new marks on his skin.

He takes a few more minutes to compose and redress himself before tiptoeing to the bathroom to get a washcloth, dampening it with warm water, in order to clean the sweat, cum, and tears from all over Ash’s body. He then dresses him back again in his underwear and into one of his hoodies; Ash’s clothes are ruined with dirt and fluids and _memories_ , and he’s sure they’re not wanted back anymore. He tosses them out of the window, into the alley’s trash cans.

When he turns around, Ash is curled into his big hoodie, on his big bed, surrounded by multiple big pillows, looking smaller than Shorter has ever seen him. It’s just then that it hits him. _He’s just a child._ Suddenly there’s a heaviness in his chest, a painful pang in his heart, that has less to do with what they just did and more with _why_ it ended up happening.

While laying down behind Ash and holding him close, he absently thinks of another life for them, one where they would meet under completely different circumstances. Kinder ones. Maybe attending the same high school, playing on the same team of something. Bonding over silly tv shows and games, not downtown territories and questionable favors. Fooling around and exploring each other with the naivety and curiosity of adolescence, not to cover bruises and the ghosts of many other unsolicited hands. He thinks of lives where they don’t meet, but those are harder to imagine.

He goes through many _“what if"s_ , through other lives... even though he knows in this one, in just a few hours, he’ll be awaken with an elbow to his ribs.

__________

Not knowing how much time has passed, Shorter opens his eyes to a high sun burning through his eyelids. No being woken up by an infuriated Ash, then. Good. He sits up, head spinning briefly. There’s a figure against the window that he recognizes immediately, even through the partial blindness caused by the intense morning light.

There’s a figure against the window that he recognizes immediately, despite the partial blindness caused by the intense morning light.

Ash is sitting there, bed cover wrapped around him like a fluffy cocoon, watching him intensely. Shorter doesn’t know what to make of that gaze, the expression on his face completely unreadable - it was a shocking opposite to the openness and vulnerability showed mere hours ago. The older boy suddenly feels exposed, nervous, wishing his sunglasses were nearer. Ash has definitely built all his walls back into place, and he needs to do the same, quickly.

He isn’t granted the luxury of time when Ash starts approaching him, slowly, neutral expression in place. He drags the cover around him as though it was some sort of ceremonial cloth. Shorter’s thoughts pass too fast one behind the other for him to give them comprehensible shape. _Is everything okay? How are you feeling?_ He wants to ask. _What happened last night? Who did that?_ He wants to send his guys after them, even though he knows Ash would hate it. _Will we be okay? Has anything changed? Was that a mistake?_ He gulps down hard, knowing full well that every feeling is showing on his eyes, his furrowed brow, in the tightness of his lips.

Ash is right in front of him and Shorter’s bracing himself for what’s about to come. He’s received his share of playful (and not so much) shoves and kicks from his friend, but he’s also seen the white rage that his impassive mask hides, and he knows that whatever is about to happen, it won’t be kind. He clenches his eyes shut at the slight movement of Ash raising his arms.

However the soft warmth is unexpected, as so is the curtain of blonde hair that covers his vision. Ash is embracing him, not as firmly as his gaze - it seems scared, even, As’s hands barely circling his shoulders. Shorter doesn’t dare breathe.

It lasts for a fleeting moment, like mostly everything that transcurred between them during the dead hours of the night. When Ash pulls away, bed cover sliding to the floor, he’s smiling in a way Shorter can never forget: with lips and eyes, open and surrounded by the morning sun, hair shining like a halo. He barely manages to exhale the tightness in his chest when Ash puts his sunglasses over his eyes, breaking the spell, helping him breathe. He must have had them in his hands, under the cover.

“Judging by the smell, Nadia must be done with breakfast. Wanna head down?” Shorter says, easy smile finally appearing again. “She won’t let you go until she makes sure your belly’s full.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t dare to reject her either.” Ash’s voice is a bit hoarse still, but none of them comment on it. He fetches a pair of shorts from Shorter’s piles of clothes, puts them on and heads to the door. “But what kind of brother are you that you’re not helping your _hard working_ sister with the restaurant’s morning rush?” he teases, looking over his shoulder.

That’s enough to pull Shorter from his paralyzing awe with how easily they’re coming back together, or from how cozy his friend looks under his oversized clothes. He scrambles to his feet, looking for cleaner clothes as he hears Ash’s teasing laugh travel down the hallway. He can’t help the wave of relief that passes through him at that sound.

Somehow, whatever exists between them managed to both stay intact, and also shift completely. When Shorter thinks he knows about Ash more than anyone else, the golden boy surprises him in the best and worst ways. He’s not sure what will become of them in the future, with the lives they lead. He’d like to imagine they’ll be able to grow old, experience the better sides of life. But he’s learned not to hope for what at the moment seems impossible.

In the meantime, while he hastily walks down the stairs, he just hopes Nadia won’t ask him many questions.

**Author's Note:**

> My biggest gratitude to Bleed_Peroxide for betaing and suggesting the title!
> 
> It's the first fic I properly write in a loooong time, and the first one in English! So I'm kinda nervous, please be kind if commenting ahahha;;;;


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